


A Rose By Any Other Name...

by Bottomofthemeniscus



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cute, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Roses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 16:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bottomofthemeniscus/pseuds/Bottomofthemeniscus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock stands pacing the floor of 221B, nervous. I strange feeling for the detective. Why is he nervous? Well, he's about to tell John that he loves him, and for once, Sherlock can not predict what his reaction will be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rose By Any Other Name...

Sherlock was pacing the floor of his flat at 221B Baker Street. He was nervous and anxious, feelings not common for him. The reason for his anxiety was found in the single red rose in his hand, with a tag tied around its stem that read, “To John, From Sherlock”. It was with this rose that Sherlock was going to tell John his true feelings towards him, just as soon as John came home.

Sherlock had realized his feelings for John a few months ago. For a while he considered just keeping his feelings a secret and to never have John know the truth, but he decided it would probably just be better to tell him anyway. Who knows, maybe something good would come out of it. Since deciding to tell him, Sherlock has been trying to figure out how and when to tell him. Sherlock decided to just be honest and have the conversation, adding a hint of romance with the rose. The problem was. Sherlock still didn’t know the right words to say.

Sherlock was currently alone for John had been with Harry for the past few days paying her a visit. It was in the empty flat that Sherlock stood pacing, thinking about all the possible ways to word what he wished to say and then using what he knew about John to deduce his reaction. The problem was that, despite all that Sherlock knew about John, he just wasn’t sure how he would react, and that was what frightened him the most.

Sherlock stopped pacing and decided to lie down and think. He put the rose down on the kitchen table and went over to the sofa to relax, maybe visiting his mind palace for a bit would calm the nerves. John wouldn’t be home for several hours anyway, he had some time to plan. As Sherlock was trying to relax, he had to keep convincing himself that telling John was truly the right thing to do.

Sherlock stayed on the sofa for what was probably close to an hour before Mrs. Hudson came up and interrupted him.

“Sherlock, that Inspector from Scotland Yard is here to see you, Lestrade is it? Oh well, I don’t…” She said upon walking into the room “Oh, I’m sorry, are you asleep?” she said when she saw Sherlock on the sofa.

Sherlock sat up and looked at her. He sighed and he, annoyed, said, “Well, obviously not anymore.”

“I’m sory, but the man at the door…”

 “Yes, yes I heard you, go ahead and send him up.”

Mrs. Hudson scurried down stairs to fetch Lestrade as Sherlock got up. He still wasn’t quite sure what to say to John, which meant he was still just as anxious as ever. He looked over at the rose he had left on the kitchen table. He decided he didn’t want to have to explain it to Lestrade, so Sherlock dug out a cup from the kitchen, filled it with water, placed the rose in it and stuck it in the refrigerator so Lestrade wouldn’t see it.

Just as Sherlock was closing the refrigerator door, Lestrade came in.

“What is it this time?” Asked Sherlock

“There’s been a murder and there’s something fishy about it. I’d like you to take a look. Will you?

“I…can’t, too busy.”

“Ha, nice try. You know I am friends with John. He told me you’ve been bored to death, absolutely no cases, Please, I need you.”

Sherlock studied Lestrade. He had heavy bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, probably from working extra hours on this case. His hair and clothes also suggested he had not been home for more than few minutes the past day or two.

Sherlock sighed, “Oh all right, where?”

“Camden Street”

“Okay, be right behind.”

Sherlock went and grabbed his coat and scarf and began to head out. He felt a little reluctant about leaving. He was assuming he wouldn’t be out too late though and could beat John home so he would still have time to figure out exactly what to say to him. At least that’s what he hoped.

 

* * *

 

John came home about an hour after Sherlock had left. He had decided to come home early; John could only handle so much of his sister

John upon walking through the door found Mrs. Hudson chatting with one of their neighbors. Mrs. Hudson turned around at the sound of the door opening and closing to see who was there. When she saw John, she smiled.

“Hello John, welcome home. Just so you know, Sherlock left about an hour ago with that Inspector from Scotland Yard, some case that needed his help.”

“Oh, really?” questioned John. “Did he say where he was going?”

“I’m afraid he didn’t. Sorry.”

“Ah well, no matter. Thanks Mrs. Hudson,” said John as he went upstairs to his flat. The news that Sherlock had left without him was surprising. He supposed the boredom must have finally gotten to him.

When John got upstairs we went to his bedroom to unpack his bags. Once done, he headed to the kitchen to hopefully find something to snack on. That was highly unlikely, unless he hungered for human flesh and eyeballs, but maybe he would get lucky.

When John opened the refrigerator, he didn’t find eyeballs awaiting him, but in fact something much stranger inside. Sitting in a cup on the bottom shelf was single red rose, probably one of the last things John would ever expect to see in their refrigerator. John then spotted a note attached to the stem and leaned down to read it.

Then John read the note, he gasped, for he could not believe what the note read. It said “To John, From Sherlock” and it shocked John beyond words. He re-read the little tag over and over again, not quite believing or comprehending that what he saw written was actually there. This rose was for him, from Sherlock. Once the shock wore off, John smiled. This rose was for him…from Sherlock.

John loved Sherlock and had for a while now. He always assumed that he was unattainable since Sherlock always kept emotions, especially ones like love, hidden away from the world. John never even dared to dream that Sherlock loved him back, but now with this rose, John had hope, though he still couldn’t quite believe it, and he wasn’t sure he could until he heard Sherlock say it. John only wished he knew where Sherlock was right now, so he could go find him rather than wait for him to come home. The wait would be agony; John just wished he could speak to Sherlock right now.

 

* * *

 

Sherlock arrived home after dark, much later than he had originally intended. He was hoping that John hadn’t gotten home yet, even though he was sure that wasn’t the case, and when he walked upstairs, John was sitting in his chair reading a newspaper. He put it down as Sherlock walked in.

“Hey, where’ve you been?” asked John

“Oh just, Lestrade, needed me,” replied Sherlock vaguely. He took off his coat and scarf and hung them up. He then headed towards the kitchen to the refrigerator He paused a second before opening it, reassuring himself and taking in a deep breath to calm the nerves. “John, I need to talk to you about something…” said Sherlock hearing a bit of shakiness in his voice. He was really nervous about what he was going to say.

“About what?” asked John, turning his head to face Sherlock right as Sherlock was opening the refrigerator door, but much to Sherlock’s dismay, the rose was missing. He began to look around for it and wondered where it had gone, but it wasn’t like it decided to stand up and walk away. “Looking for something?” asked John again.

“Uh…no, no, nothing,” said Sherlock deciding to go on with the conversation without the rose, it wasn’t all that important anyway.  “Uh…” said Sherlock turning around to face John, about to begin the conversation, but he stopped at that because when Sherlock turned around, John was standing right there, the rose in his hand. It was held up to his face and John was starring at it, a nervous grin on his face.

“Was it this, by any chance?” asked John tentatively.

Sherlock stared at him wide-eyed.  “Um, yes” said Sherlock. He wasn’t quite sure what to say next, but the silence was tuning too awkward, so he asked, “Do you like it?”

John didn’t answer right away; he just kept staring at the rose. After a moment, John looked up at Sherlock. John could see the anxiety in his eyes; he wanted to know John’s answer.

“Yes,” replied John at long last, and at hearing this answer, Sherlock smiled. They stood in silence for a moment, both of them searching for the words to speak next. Sherlock almost broke the silence, but he decided to do something else. He gently lifted his hand to John’s cheek, brushing his fingertips ever so lightly across the soft skin of John’s face. Sherlock then had his hand slide to the bottom of John’s chin and left it there, gently cradling his face in his hand.

Sherlock then began to lean towards John, slowly as to see if John would lean away, but he just stood there, staring at Sherlock, not moving an inch. Sherlock then leaned in closer, and closer, until finally, their lips met.

It was just a peck on the lips before both of them pulled back with a gasp. It was a bit of a shock for both of them, something almost like a dream. The only thing that made them remember this was reality was the pounding in their hearts and the warming sensation spreading through them. It wasn’t long before the leaned in for another kiss.

This kiss was more than a mere peck. It was filled with love and passion. Both of their hearts filled with pure joy, sending them through the roof with happiness. Their arms wrapped around each other in an embrace so strong that nothing could have torn them apart at that moment. Tears began streaming down their cheeks. The kiss was a release of kept up emotions between the two. Everything they had kept hidden within themselves was released at that moment.

After a bit, John broke away from the kiss, leaving their arms wrapped around each other. He eyes looked up at Sherlock, showing deep love and passion within them. Sherlock met him with a gaze portraying much the same message. John smiled at Sherlock and then barely whispered, “I love you, Sherlock.”

“I love you too, John.” And they leaned in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah. Written for fuckyeahjohnlockfanfic's contest on John and Sherlock's first kiss. First story on A03, though this is also posted on my fanfiction.net account. Also, interesting side note! This story is actually based on my parent's first kiss. My dad left a rose in the refrigerator and my mom had to wait all day for him to get home to say anything, and when he got home, he kissed her. I always thought it was romantic in its own little way. :)


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